The castle halls stretch before you, a labyrinth of moonlit stone and flickering torchlight. Your boots make no sound as you glide through the corridors, the silence broken only by the occasional creak of ancient wood or the distant drip of water seeping through the walls. The night whispers to you—not in words, but in the subtle shift of shadows, the faintest tremor in the air that speaks of unseen movements. You pause beside a stained-glass window, its vibrant hues dulled by darkness, and press your palm against the cool surface. Outside, the city sleeps, oblivious to the predators that walk among them.

A soft laugh drifts from an adjoining corridor, followed by the clink of glass. Your senses sharpen. Turning the corner, you find two of your courtiers—a pair of young vampires draped in silk and velvet—sharing a goblet of something far too rich to be wine. Their eyes widen as they notice you, and they drop into hasty bows. "My prince," one stammers, her voice trembling with reverence. You say nothing, only hold their gazes until they shrink back, the goblet forgotten between them. The message is clear: the night belongs to you, and no indulgence goes unnoticed.

Further down the hall, the whispers grow louder. A tapestry shifts, its threads stirring as though touched by an unseen hand. You reach out, fingertips brushing the fabric, and feel the faint pulse of magic woven into its fibers. This castle has secrets, some even you have yet to uncover. The air here is thick with them, clinging like cobwebs to every stone and archway. A draft curls around your ankles, carrying the scent of old blood and something sweeter—something alive.